


Out of Character

by SlashingToTheDeath



Series: Skull Chronicles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John being somewhat of a BAMF, Just to be safe, Library volunteer, M/M, Major OOCness for Sherlock, Mycroft Being a Good Brother (I guess), Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft Worries (depends on how you read it), Mycroft's Meddling (probably), Rated T for mentions of sex, Romance, au-ish, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashingToTheDeath/pseuds/SlashingToTheDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock volunteers at the library on Mondays and-wait! Say what?!?!? Sherlock volunteers at the LIBRARY!??!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Character

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little something I came up with when I was doing volunteer work at my local library. I couldn't get it out of my mind so I decided to share it. :D

A sleek black car pulled up beside John just as he sat down on a bench to enjoy his sandwich. The door to the back seat opened and Mycroft came into view. He glared at John. John glared back.

"Get in." Mycroft ordered.

"I'm eating." John shot back.

"Get in." Mycroft repeated himself. John held his gaze steady, boring a hole into Mycroft's forehead with his glare. Mycroft didn't budge. Their stare off continued for a good five minutes before John sighed. He got up slowly and walked towards the car.

"I'm eating this and you're gonna shut up about whatever stupid rule you got with food in the car." John said as he slid into the car and slammed the door shut.

"I have no such rule." Mycroft declared.

John took a giant bite out of his sandwich and chewed with vigor. The car began moving. John stared out the window as he watched the clinic he worked at disappear out of view. He turned back to Mycroft.

"Where are we going?" He asked him.

Mycroft leaned back into his seat and readjusted his umbrella. Slowly, he turned to face John. The glare was still on his face. It grew in intensity when Mycroft stared him straight in the eye.

"You're still fighting with Sherlock." He stated.

"... So?"

"It's problematic."

John arched a brow. He took another bite out of his sandwich.

"Problematic for... who exactly?" He asked with suspicion.

_Why would Mycroft be affected by this?_ He asked himself.

Mycroft leaned in closer to John. John fought hard not to back away.

"Gregory says it's affecting Sherlock's performance at the crime scene." He said barely above a whisper but his voice was more menacingly than ever before.

John smirked. "So this is about Lestrade. What? Is he witholding sex until you fix this _problem_?"

He knew he was sort of digging his grave. Physically, Mycroft didn't look to threatening. He wasn't intimidating either. However, it didn't mean Mycroft wasn't dangerous. Mycroft, despite his refusal to admit, was one of the largest players in politics. He had connections that stretched farther than the length of England. Picking a fight with the man was picking a fight with a fate far worse than death.

However, John didn't retract his words. He stood beside them and maintained his teasing smirk, even when Mycroft's left pointer finger twitched a little. It was a sure sign of annoyance. Lestrade told John about some of Mycroft's tells. If he didn't, John wouldn't have been able to spot it.

"Gregory is _not_ happy." Mycroft avoided the question.

"And what are you going to do about it? This is between Sherlock and me." John shot back.

"If you two were left to your own devices then the issue would never be resolved."

"I beg to differ." John cocked his head. "Sherlock and I have fought before. We even had physically fought each other till we bled profusely. Never have we ever failed to mend the relationship."

"It's preferable if you mend it faster." Mycroft said quickly.

"Oh? How are you going to do that?" John was truly intrigued.

"We're here." Mycroft said just as the car stopped. He opened his door and stepped out. John took a look out the window.

They were at the local library.

_What the hell?_

He got out of the car regardless and followed after Mycroft who had already headed for the door. They entered the library in silence. Mycroft appeared to know where to go. He immediately turned left and then headed up the stairs. John followed without a word though he was giving Mycroft's back the curious but suspicious look.

The second floor was packed. Crowds of people were bustling about with books in their hands, backpacks on their shoulders, and chatting quietly as they browsed the shelf of never ending books.

John leaned a little closer to Mycroft so he could whisper in his ear. "Why are we at the library?"

Mycroft ignored him. Instead he headed for the fiction section, specifically the mystery novels. He stopped at the shelf and stood behind it. He turned to John.

"Don't let him see you." He said in a whisper. John furrowed his eyebrows. Curiosity got the better of him though and he leaned on the shelf to see who was on the other side. The sight he saw surprised him. His eyes widened in shock. Standing at the center of the aisle between two shelves was Sherlock. He was wearing the mandatory yellow library T-shirt for all staff members and around his neck was an ID badge. In his hands was a stack of books that he was shelving.

John turned his head so quickly to give Mycrof the wide-eyed stare that he felt his neck crack. It was going to hurt later but that wasn't as important as Sherlock working for the library.

_"What the hell?!"_ John whispered in a panic. Mycroft smiled a little.

"Sherlock volunteers at this library on Mondays and Thursdays." Mycroft said.

"The days I work late..." John observed.

"Precisely," Mycroft said.

"Why?"

"Why? He's giving back to the community, that's why."

"He's doing this on his own free will? No one's threatening him into it? It's not punishment for some petty crime he committed?" John tried to cover all his bases.

"No, it is entirely of his own free will."

"..." John turned back to get a good look at Sherlock. The man was so engrossed in shelving the books correctly, that he didn't notice John staring at him not so subtley.

"Why would he do this?" John asked.

"Why don't you ask him?" Mycroft nudged him a little with his umbrella. John whirled around to glare softly at him but he did walk out from behind the shelf and approach Sherlock. His heart was hammering loudly in his chest as he did so. However, he didn't think it was beating as fast as Sherlock's though when the man spotted him.  
Sherlock practically almost dropped the books he was holding. The man looked like he was caught smoking right after John warned him (threaten) him thoroughly about the dangers of smoking and why he shouldn't do it. John walked up to him calmly and gently helped him steady the books. Sherlock gave him another surprised look.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Mycroft bought me." John said honestly. He turned around to point to the elder Holmes but the man was gone. John sighed and turned back around. "And he has abandoned me." He shrugged.

Sherlock looked beyond his shoulder to get a look at the place Mycroft was at. Then he looked down at John.

"Are we still fighting?" He asked quite honestly.

"... Why are you volunteering at the library?" John asked instead. Sherlock adjusted the books to place them at his hip. He turned back to the shelf to continue his task.

"It calms me." He said.

"That's it?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock admitted.

"What else?"

"It helps people."

John snorted. "Like you care about helping people."

"... I do..." Sherlock said in a small voice. "But mostly it just calms me. Normally repetitive movements bore me. However, there's something about shelving books that keeps me calm, helps me think. It gives me a sharper mind to work with when we're on a case."

John nodded.

"Why do it on the days I work late?"

Sherlock didn't answer immediately. Instead he shelved three books first before looking at John. There was a raw emotion on his face. His eyes shined with a hint of fond sadness.

"So I won't miss you at night." He said in a whisper.

John's heart soared. Never had anyone ever said that to him before. And he didn't expect the first person to say that to him was going to be Sherlock. Those words made him extremely happy. He felt the anger he's been feeling for the past two weeks seep away. His body felt lighter. His muscles relaxed. With an ease that had escaped him weeks ago, John closed the gap between them and grabbed Sherlock into a hug. He wrapped his arms around the detective's waist. Sherlock dropped the books immediately. His arms wound around John's shoulders. Sherlock burrowed his face into John's blonde hair.

"I missed you." He breathed in John's scent.

"I missed you too." John smiled against Sherlock's shirt.

"... Am I forgiven?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, you are forgiven." John confirmed. They hugged for a moment longer before John pulled away. He produced a stern face when he lifted his head to look at Sherlock. He released Sherlock's waist in favor of poking him in the chest warningly.

"However, if you ever throw that skull at me again in a whiny fit about me being home later than usual, there will be hell to be paid. I will never forgive you again!" he shouted.

Sherlock smiled brightly and leaned down to give John a soft peck on the lips. "Of course, John."

"Good." John returned the kiss.

They pulled apart minutes later, breathing hard and blushing. Sherlock bent down to pick up the books he dropped. He cleared his throat before turning back to the shelves. John stood beside him, content and happy to watch Sherlock shelf books.

John grew bored quickly though. It wasn't very interesting to stand around and watch someone shelve books apparently. Hoping to liven up the atmosphere, John looked both ways before leaning close to Sherlock's ear.

"So... Lestrade used sex against Mycroft. He withheld it until Mycroft fixed our little fight."

Sherlock almost choked himself to death on the air he breathed.

"John!" He hissed. "I do not want to hear about Mycroft and what he does with Lestrade behind closed doors."

"Why not? It's not like we do anything different." John shrugged.

"..." Sherlock's expression was priceless. His eyes had blown wide. His mouth hanging open. He had frozen in place. John arched an eyebrow while he tried to keep himself from laughing out loud.

"Sherlock? Mate, you ok?" He waved a hand in front of Sherlock's face. Then he snapped his fingers a couple of times. Nothing.

"Hmmm," John fished out his phone. He pressed speed dial two.

_"Hello?"_

"Exactly how do you and Mycroft have sex?"

_"What?!"_

"Sherlock has gone into shock when I told him that the sex we have and you guys have are not so different. I think if I present differences between the two it would snap him out of it." John tried waving his hand in front of Sherlock's face.

Still nothing.

"So, how do you two have sex?"

_"Uh..."_

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you guys think? This is literally my first time attempting something that isn't angst, psychological, and just completely dark in nature.


End file.
